


dear mr. council president

by pandoracorn



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode
Genre: Canon Compliant, PLEASE., Platonic Relationships, anyone else wonder where the FUCK munakata went at the end of Hope Arc, i'm only saying this bc i know what Some People are like, please don't ship this fandom i'm begging you, post-dr3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandoracorn/pseuds/pandoracorn
Summary: come take a walk with me // i'd like to ask you some questions if you'll speak honestly-The aftermath of the Final Killing Game leaves Munakata needing to search for a purpose... he finds someone else in the process.





	dear mr. council president

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1f8S5u01E0Y)!
> 
> Here we go, I'm back with my bullshit!! I've been wanting to lay out what I think happened to Munakata post-Hope Arc for a while now and I think now, I can!! I don't know what was stopping me, but I think I've come to the realisation that the fandom has moved on from DR3, so the content post and pre the anime is fair game. And I, as the self-proclaimed Biggest DR3 Stan, am going to write all of it.
> 
>  
> 
> I aimed for a word count of ~1500 words.

Distant noises signalled the end of the charge on the horizon, and he could only begin to imagine the sigh of relief as soldiers of the Future Foundation lowered their weapons, the area they were attempting to scrub away the Despair in now free and washed away with the blood and people pushed to the edge by the brainwashing of one terrifying woman. He could almost smell that bloodshed, even hundred if not  _ thousands _ of miles away from the scene that, a month or so before, he would have overwatched with a critical gaze, not flinching at all as necks were slit, chests were pierced with bullets like they were human pincushions and the squads carried on as if they were hunting for sport.

 

That was the life and truth of living in Despair with your head held high. So why was it now he could barely manage to metaphorically keep his chin up, instead choosing to look at the floor and no longer reassuring himself that the cause he was fighting for was just, and the death was just a means to an end?

 

...Ah, of course, it’s not like he could even forget the blood that stained his hands, his heart, and his conscience?

 

Kyosuke Munakata, if you had met him before, was a proud man. He was a tall man with power and a formidable position, his views objective and following his own morals that, if it was for the good of all, it was just. Now, he stood to the entrance of a city barely piecing itself back together after the raging outbreak and mass terror induced by underage terrorists, armed with the knowledge that the world was shit and not worth saving. ...In that regard, those children were smarter than he was.

 

Bloodstained winds trailed underneath the coat that brushed against the back of his legs as he walked, a tired gaze scanning the area that once, he’d heard, felt so hopeless it was almost too hard to breathe. But now, it was barren… lifeless. Was that any better, he wondered. Questioning his morals was something he’d never had to do, but now he’d been doing it since he’d killed his friends and lost everything else along the way, maybe, he thought - no, he  _ insisted _ \- this was what he deserved.

“Look out!”

The voice calling out from behind him caused him to turn around, watching as his eyes widened slightly at the girl with the large megaphone, seeming to be pointing is at his head… the sound of gears that were now behind him caused his reflexes his spur into actions, drawing the sword from his pocket, taking only seconds to not only draw its blade, but slice the robotic Monokuma coming for his head into two pieces, wiring sparkling and the smell of smoke almost choking him as it fell to the floor, lifeless.

“Whew, that was close! Glad you’re safe, mister- wait…” She quickly ran over, until Munakata could see her features clearly - short-ish, brown hair, an abundance of freckles decorating her face like stars and green eyes that glimmered in such a way that, somehow, he knew that she was going to recognize him and say- “..You know Makoto, don’t you?”

“...You could regard me as his former superior.”   
“Former? What do you- oh… oh, right, that’s what…” She fell quiet, looking down at the megaphone in her hand for a moment before strapping it back onto the tool belt that hung loosely around her waist. “Well, I’m Komaru Naegi, I guess you could call me the head of Towa, though I guess that’s more Touko’s job… you’re, uh…”   
“Munakata,” he finished, before she could embarrass herself, “Kyosuke Munakata.”   
“Right, right! Sorry, terrible at names, sometimes.” She laughed, so soft and gently nd genuinely happy it was almost a wonder that she, as he had heard it, was the centre of the Towa massacre, and the one to stop it all. He paused and watched her fix her belt, before following her with his eyes as she walked past him briskly, pausing just a few feet away and spinning on her heel slightly to face him again, signalling with her hand to carry on walking. “C’mon, I know you’re big and strong but, it’s still not totally safe here.”

Munakata stared at her for a moment, looking down at the sword still drawn in his hand before retracting the blade and tucking it back into his pocket, following the young girl in silence, through the ravaged streets that he could only imagine made her want to run away and hide for the rest of her days.

 

But she didn’t. So what was he doing here, walking with her?

 

Komaru looked back, watching as the man who honestly sounded much scarier when Naegi had told her about him look around, seeming so much more… tired than intimidating, and more mellow than the fearless leader that was described to her. Still, somehow, speaking to him felt… difficult. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try, though. “...Makoto told me you might come here.”

He looked up, just as Komaru turned around to look at him, saying no words yet somehow, she knew he wanted her to elaborate. ...OK, maybe he was intimidating as well as tired.

“Well, it’s just… he said you went missing shortly after you got out, so he thought, maybe-”

“Are you saying he was worried about me?”

“Ah, I… probably, yeah. That’s Makoto for you, though… he barely made it out of a murder-fest alive again, and the first thing he does is worry about other people… sometimes, I worry he’s gonna worry himself out.” Her laughter was shallow, and for a moment, she frowned, before she wiped it off with a look of concern. “...His worries ring true, though. You really don’t look too good.”   
“...I’m fine. Both you and your brother should look out for yourselves first.”

“Ah, true. You got us there. But, maybe… helping people means that they’ll help themselves, and help other people too… worry is contagious, for better or worse… at least, that’s what I think.”

She turned back around again, looking straight ahead, hearing nothing from Munakata as he walked behind. That prompted her to carry on.

“I… Well, we wouldn’t have made this city any safer if I didn’t worry. If I didn’t worry about the kids who did this, they would be no better than dead. If I didn’t worry about the people I found, they may not have made it, and we may have lost even more lives by extension. Sometimes, if I don’t worry, I may be no better than a murderer. ...Living through this has made me realise, that, sometimes, it’s good, even better to worry.”

“...I tried to kill your brother. I hated him. Even now, I still hate him. That naive bastard took everything from me, and can still smile. ...Is it worth it then? Is it better to worry about me?”

The question pushed Komaru to silence as she thought and considered what he had said, before she shook her head. “...Makoto has a different way of thinking to you, for better or worse in certain situations. Everything isn’t absolute. That’s why, I think… if you worry, you think. You change. You adapt and survive and then, you can do it all over again. ...I’m sorry about the people you lost, Munakata-san. But you can’t let that consume you. I… I know that personally.”

“...How many people have you seen?”

“Much less than you, surely, but… it’s way more than I ever expected.”

“Yet you still fight for your brother’s hope?”

“Well… yes and no. Yes since I want to make the world better, again, like it used to, and no… because I’m not really. I’m fighting for my future and the future of this city on behalf of those who couldn’t.” She looked behind her, forcing herself to smile as she remembered how it felt every time she saw blood spilling… unable to even comprehend what he went through while she was locked away before she knew any of this was even happening. “And, while it won’t make them come back, it… makes me think they’d be proud of me for trying.”

She quickly faced forward again and bit her lip as she felt her eyes welling with tears, and Munakata only watched, before staring at the sidewalk they were walking beside, sometimes seeing tiny bloodstains growing old from the over two years of fighting for the livelihood of the world since the Tragedy had begun.

 

“Oh, we’re almost here!” They’d been walking in silence for a while, with Munakata dwelling in his own thoughts, only to be dragged out of them by Komaru’s sudden exclamation.

He watched her running forward, towards a hotel that seemed rather normal, thank goodness. She stopped outside the door, waiting for him to catch up.

“...Hey, are you gonna come in?”

“...Huh?”

“Well, I was just wondering, since there’s not… exactly anywhere else to go. And I know Makoto would kill me if you died, so…” The girl gestured inside, to the lobby that was dimly lit and empty. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, it can just be for the day, maybe not even that.”

He stared through the glass door, seeing his reflection standing inside… he was tired of running away from the issues he had, and the things the girl had said had, somehow, caused more problems. How was she so strong, how could she still fight? ...Did he have the strength to prove to himself that he wasn’t weak without the two crutches he’d grown up with? ...As if feeling their smiles on his back, he walked forward without saying a word, letting the doors slide open to let him through

Komaru watched with a smile, before following after him and calling to the stairs, “Guys, we’ve got another one, come downstairs!”


End file.
